


mimic

by anthropologicalhands



Category: Naruto
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Gen, Infant Sarada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2019-05-17 02:22:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14823408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthropologicalhands/pseuds/anthropologicalhands
Summary: Sasuke and Sakura having a moment with infant Sarada.





	mimic

It seems that while he was out gathering groceries, Sakura converted their bed into a makeshift nest.

She lies at its center, with her back to the wall, on  _his_  side of the bed no less, curled around Sarada. Their flowered comforter and sheets have been pulled out of their neat corners and piled up as soft barriers around the edges of the bed, fortified by pillows pilfered from their place by the headboard.

As a safety measure, Sasuke finds it drastic; Sarada is barely capable of rolling onto her stomach, let alone off the bed. But though it is a travesty to his own views of order, he has to admit: it looks comfortable. Sarada lies on top of her baby blanket with her hands are encased in pink mitts. Completing this portrait of softness is Sakura’s own appearance: wrapped in her favorite fluffy bathrobe, her hair still damp from the shower.

She does not seem to notice when he enters the room, focused as she is on the face of their little one. And for that, Sasuke is able to approach from behind, and observe her at work.

What he sees nearly makes him laugh outright.

Sarada, content for the moment, is making all kinds of interesting, flexible expressions. Widening her eyes. Makes little popping noises. Blows raspberries.

And regardless of how silly she looks, Sakura is matching those faces, pout for pout.

For a little while, Sasuke does nothing but drink in this comfortable little scene, warmed by the afternoon light filtering through their bedroom window.

“I hope you realize that by doing this you have  _completely_  forfeited the right to make fun of Naruto and his faces,” he says to Sakura, joining their moment by seating himself on the edge of the mattress, leaning over her shoulder.

Caught mid-pucker, Sakura’s response is to twist around to press a full kiss against his lips, withdrawing with an intentionally loud smack. Sasuke rolls his eyes at her, making her laugh, and shifts so that he is aligned flush against her back. He drapes one arm over her waist, fingertips brushing the back of her hand. She interlocks their fingers and squeezes, her eyes still on Sarada.

“Don’t get high and mighty with me,” says Sakura without any bite. “ _She_ likes it.”

He scoffs. “Blaming our child for  _your_  antics? Please.”

She pushes back at him with her shoulder; in response he wraps his other arm around her waist and pulls her closer, pressing his face into the crook of her neck, where her robe has loosened. She smells fresh and sweet, and the ends of her hair are cool where they brush his cheek.

“You showered?”

Sakura hums in response; he feels the vibration in her skin. “About a half hour ago. I meant to take one earlier, but I ended up falling asleep after I put down Sarada for her nap.”

“Aa.” He understands; sleep has been an elusive thing in their household these past several weeks. He presses a kiss to the junction of her shoulder before readjusting her bathrobe more securely around her shoulder.

They lie together like that, just looking at their daughter. She is no longer fussing, though her little arms still wave thoughtlessly in the air. Instead, her primary focus is in watching Sakura, gaze unwavering.

“Do you think she recognize your face yet?” Sasuke asks.

“Not as well as other things about me—the sound of my voice, my scent, my heartbeat. But yes, I think she’s starting to know my face.”

“Good,” says Sasuke. He reaches over and gently taps Sarada’s nose. She blinks, brow furrowing, and her head lolls up to face him.

“In fact,” says Sakura, and he can hear her smile in her voice. “I think she recognizes you too.”

“Really?” he asks, skeptical despite himself.

“Really,” She squeezes his hand. “Look. She’s smiling at you.”

She doesn’t need to tell him. He already is.

Sarada has not stopped looking at him. She no longer looks sleepy but alert; her eyes wide and bright. Her lips are parted, tongue just peeking out. At a first glance, it is a perfectly ordinary expression, one that Sasuke has seen on her face a hundred times in her few short weeks of life.

But her forehead has smoothed and the corners of her mouth, when he looks again, are tilted upwards  _just so_.

It could be a smile, he allows. Her mouth stretches up a little higher, and she waves her arms again.

“ _Now_  look who’s making silly faces?” asks Sakura.

To his chagrin, Sasuke realizes that his own face has betrayed him.

He snaps his mouth closed, and looks away, embarrassed.

Sakura laughs outright. “Oh, don’t be like that.” She moves away from him, to gather Sarada up in her arms. “Come here and snuggle with us. Wouldn’t you like that, Sa-chan?” she asks their daughter, her voice light and lilting. “Wouldn’t you like it if Papa snuggles with us?”

Sarada coos in response, and Sakura beams at him. Sasuke snorts but does not protest. Instead, he shifts so that Sakura can turn and lie back down again, this time facing him, Sarada nestled close between them.

Sarada has lost interest in him, and has turned back to Sakura again.

Sakura looks right back, her eyes and smile almost giddy with love. Soon she is resuming her silly faces—not caring if her husband sees and teases her again for it.

Again Sasuke absorbs this moment, this openness of mother-father-child, of husband-wife, and hopes it will last a while longer. Warmth and happiness have grown familiar to him in these last few years, but every now and then it strikes him, that he can participate. That with his family, he  _creates_.

He reaches for her hand; again she fits their palms together, her eyes flickering briefly away from Sarada, and in that moment, her smile is the one that has always been his, but now, he knows, it is for  _them_. For their family.

He smiles back.

And it is there, in the serenity of their bed, safe between their bodies and clasped hands, that Sarada laughs for the first time.


End file.
